The Gabbin: The Lad of the Rings, #1

By Johann Balthasar Knörtzer

He realized just then that he could do it. He could do great things–if only people would force him to.

In the lands of Skiddle Earth, a Gabbin named Bobill is coerced by a mysterious Wizard into traveling across the world with a group of obnoxious insufferable Dorks, and to assist them in the taking back of their long-lost secret treasure hoard from a fire-breathing monster of old. Death, perils, frustration, and ridiculous nonsense await them around every turn of the long and dangerous road to the Mountain of Solitude.
 

This series is an action-adventure, with absurd humorous elements that are inspired by Tolkien's "Middle Earth."

 

"Written unlike any other series out there!"

 

If you love "Adventure Time," "Regular Show," or "Gravity Falls," you will love "The Lad of the Rings series!" This hilarious adventure takes you across "Skiddle Earth," where you never know what will happen around the next corner. What creatures may lurk, what treasures will they find, and what magical mishaps await!?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Knörtzer and Family
• Release date: Feb 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781954948020

Book preview

Prologue:

History

Long ago, in the land of Skiddle Earth, a glorious tree was planted. The tree was so magical that only the very strongest could go near it, for it would destroy all who lacked the strength of body and mind to withstand its incredible power. It was the most perfect of all growing things in the world, for it was indeed an apple tree, yet it produced extraordinarily shiny oranges. The people of the lands foolishly gave all their money to the tree in respect to its power—until it led them to their ruin. Wars were waged and empires collapsed as the kingdoms of the world fought to the brink of extinction for the favor of its branchy magnificence.

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Almost five hundred years after the planting of the tree, a prince was born. He grew to become the mightiest of all men in the lands, which made him proud and arrogant. The people loved him despite this, but one day, he decided that he shouldn't just be prince of Skiddle Earth, he should be king. He murdered up his parents and blamed it on innocent men who were put to death... twice.

After that, he took the sacred Aplornge tree and moved it to a faraway place. With the tree gone, everyone followed him without question. The new king eventually became so great, admired, and influential, especially to the most powerful leaders in the surrounding kingdoms, that he made twenty-eight rings with which these lower rulers could now better govern their respective lands using the magical properties contained within them.

Some gave extended life, increased physical strength, and enhanced abilities of the mind. Others gave more outlandish gifts, such as rubbery limbs, x-ray hearing, a nose that grew in length in accordance with how much gold the wearer possessed, and one that made the wearer invincible to baldness. After the king gave them all out, he made two more for himself. None suspected he had done so, due to his making them while no one was looking. To make it even more convincing, he had the words, 'I Certainly Only Made Twenty-Eight Rings, Not Thirty', embroidered in large, bold, italic, underlined letters upon the back of his silken robes.

The rings that he certainly did make, however, were powerful rings indeed, with which he could control all life in Skiddle Earth through the lesser power of the twenty-eight. One was the Ring of the Time, and the other was the Ring of the Phone. As the writers of old would come to say:

Ten Rings for the Elvish kings in the dry,

Ten for the Dork-Lords with their walls and thrones,

Five for the distorted men doomed to cry,

and Three for the Wents with twigs for bones,

in the land of Dormor where Dragons fly;

Two Rings to control them all,

Two Rings to hide them,

Two Rings to drink them all,

and in the carpets grind them,

in the land of Dormor where Dragons fly.

This was how the king, now known as The Dark King Rauson, would take over the entire world and bend it to his own selfish purposes.

When the nations and peoples of Men, Elves, Dorks, and Wents eventually realized what Rauson's plan was, they set aside their differences and charged the treacherous king's armies at the base of Mount Zoom in his fortress of Dormor. When they thought they had killed the majority of his evil Porks, The Dark King himself came forth with the power of the Two Rings. He easily and single-handedly cut through the opposing armies like hot cheese... the rings were just too powerful. The hearts of the free people began to falter, and many turned to flee. Yet from amongst the vast host of that great resistance, The King of Men stepped forth and challenged Rauson alone. The king did all that he could, and mighty he was, but alas, he was not strong enough. He got whacked by Rauson and fell to the ground in complete and total death.

The remaining forces rallied together again at the sight of the fallen hero, and in a final charge they backed Rauson up, all the way into the cave of Mount Zoom where the rings were made. Then Durisil, son of The King of Men, took his father's pitchfork and cut the Ring of the Time from Rauson's wretched hand. Then the dark king was knocked backward into the lake of extreme cold... the waters of Zoom. He had been defeated, and the Ring of the Phone was destroyed. Durisil then took the Ring of the Time for his own and sold it.

Shortly after, he had his teeth kicked out by bandits on the road. He was never seen again... except by dead people. The ring ended up in a shop where Jeegle, a fellow from the creek villages, bought it. It made him go crazy, and he ran into the Mimson Mountain caverns. He loved the ring more than anything, and for ages, it controlled him. Yet unbeknownst to him, a day would come when a little fat man would find his ring and take it from him. This is the account of Bobill Gabbin, Mayor of Hometown, and his adventurous discovery of a mysterious and particularly special rounded object....

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Chapter 1:

A Wizard Visits

There was once a man who lived under a pile of mud. His name was Bobill Gabbin. He didn't care for adventures or anything of such fashion. His interest was in the town of Hometown, collecting worthless crap, and playing the fiddle—not at all of the things in the outside world. It should be noted that he was the mayor of the town as well... although he really wasn't. You see, he liked to complain often; it being another of his favorite hobbies.

So, one day he formed a group that nobody else in the town joined to elect someone as a leader for addressing the issues within the town. When it came time for the election, he had set up everything himself, and he was the only one that voted. Without anyone else in the town ever knowing, he was secretly the self-proclaimed mayor of Hometown, and he held that title with high honor for all of his days.

Now as far his appearance went, this much can be said: his hair was a peppery-yellow winter brown color with some mild curling to it, his eyes were just little black dots, and he was rather short, as were the rest of the folk in his country. He was also fat and liked to stuff his chubby cheeks with cakes and sweets. As a matter of fact, he ate twelve meals a day, one every hour. He would eat twenty-four if he wasn't forced to sleep, which he did for twelve hours as well. So far in his life, the most amazing thing he had ever done was say hello to someone that he was not sure lived in his town. But very soon, he would find himself doing things more interesting than that.

One evening, as Bobill poured a cup of triple-sugar tea from his favorite brass kettle and was about to open the oven to fetch his fifth batch of frosted buttercake muffins, he heard a rather large knock on his front door. He tossed his apron on a chair and scurried to the door to answer it.

He slowly opened it and said in a rather frightened voice, H-h-h-hello?

Lightning flashed, and Bobill saw a creepy old man sporting a long yellowish beard and a tall, pointy dark yellow hat. He was holding a crooked staff and standing in his doorway, glaring down at him.

Sakes! screamed Bobill.

I am a Wizard by the name of Randolf the Bronze, said the Wizard named Randolf the Bronze. I am here on important business that is none of your business. Just let me in, let me have some of those frosted buttercake muffins, and let us talk.

Bobill nearly passed out, but he straightened himself up and found the courage to say, Well, of course, my good Wizard, always a pleasure to serve a senior citizen.

Randolf, stepping in the doorway, slipped on some mud on the floor and cracked his head of bronze on a cheese grater.

My goodness, Randolf! exclaimed Bobill. I'm sorry about that.

Randolf slapped Bobill's hand away when he tried to help him up and jumped up quicker than he fell. He then proceeded to dust off his brazen kilt and sat down at Bobill's little table. As he tossed the first muffin in his pie-hole, he asked Bobill a very certain question. This question of certainty upset Bobill and put him in a rebellious mood. The question proposed to Bobill was one that dealt with taking an adventure into the outside world.

Would you be willing, young Bobill, to journey to faraway lands and kill Dragons and Porks and other unspeakable things?

Bobill was frozen with fear and began to sob loudly. Randolf knew that he was quite unwelcome there now, so he got up, grabbed his hat and staff, and left Bobill's home. Once Bobill was sure he had left, he instantly cracked a large grin.

Fooled that old codger I did! he laughed.

He giggled to himself into the night, shaking his head every time he thought of how clever he was.

The very next morning, Randolf came back. Bobill was extra frustrated when he heard the knocking on his door at this hour. He ran all over the house, making sure everything was perfect before he dared even go see who it was... although he had a pretty good guess. He then went over and slowly opened the door. Bobill had guessed correctly, but to his surprise, there were six Dorks with the Wizard this time. Of course, he had never seen a real Dork before. He had never even been outside of his town. But from what he had heard and read in his books, these short, wide, bearded fellows must almost certainly be genuine Dorks. Letting them in was the last thing he wanted to do.

Come in! Welcome! said Bobill with a frown.

Randolf strutted in, minding the slick entryway this time, as the six Dorks ran in past him and started smashing things and throwing Bobill's pictures and trophies for doing who knows what all over the place.

AHHHH!! screamed Bobill. What are they doing!?

Randolf replied, They are searching. They have to make sure you aren't some fool.

The Dorks looked at each other and nodded, then they lined up in front of Bobill.

Randolf pointed to each one. This is Porky, Jerky, Corky, Slerky, Dorky, and Forky Rottenfield, their leader.

Then they all said together in a kind of frightful voice, We are all at your servings, Bobill!

So, he felt obligated to make them some dinner. Bobill feared he would have nothing left for himself after emptying out his mud cupboards of food supplies for cooking. The Dorks ate like a pack of wild fatties. Gulping, slurping, crunching, munching, devouring, and inhaling everything that Bobill put on the table as fast as he could cook it. On at least two occasions, his fingertips were